


Sleep is for Tortoises

by Narcissa_Mottershead



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M, river and the doctor - Freeform, twelve and river
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-16
Updated: 2017-05-16
Packaged: 2018-11-01 07:57:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10917618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Narcissa_Mottershead/pseuds/Narcissa_Mottershead
Summary: "Sleep is for tortoises."A little moment between a sleepy River and an affectionate Doctor.Read and review :)





	Sleep is for Tortoises

Sleep is for tortoises 

Sleep was for tortoises, not time lords. Unless they’d regenerated, or had a really big lunch but that was beside the point. She however, was only half time lord. She did sleep. If she didn’t there was hell to pay and she’d never let him forget that! He didn’t mind. Even in her sleep she wasn’t boring. She could never be boring. Only in her sleep could he really look at her, could he really study her, without fear of being ruthlessly teased. He was quietly sentimental; the things he really loved, the things that were truly precious, he liked to study, to quietly observe, and she, she was by far the most fascinating he’d ever come across, especially in her sleep.

            River Song was not a woman to let her guard down. She wore sass like silk, and a smirk like lipstick. Her backchat was as lethal as her blaster and her bravado was almost as impenetrable as the TARDIS’s shields. But when she slept, when she slept she was an all-together different creature. When she slept all that armour was left in a dusty heap on the floor. Her innocence and her sensitivities were left naked and bare, and only then could he see the damage that been done. He could see all the delicate cracks, all the beautiful little lines, each small scar a star on her skin to make up the constellation that was her, Melody Pond. She hated them. He thought they were more beautiful than the Milky Way itself.

            The Doctor looked down as she stirred, gently pulled from his thoughts as her curls tickled his skin as she shifted in her sleep, a small incoherent murmur leaving her lips. A little frown had creased her brow, and her hand had curled gently around his jumper. He liked jumpers these days, or at least this version of him did. She liked them to, she seemed to like clutching gently at them as she slept. Perhaps that was why he wore them. Noting the persistent little frown on his wife’s face he lifted a withered hand, gently smoothing back her curls and brushed his lips over the frown in a mere ghost of a kiss. He smiled when she let out a soft sigh, settling a little against him. She was harmless really; his sleepy little tortoise.


End file.
